"Professor? Professor Hughes?"
"Unnh?"
"I'm so sorry to bother you, but we need to ask you some questions."
"Where am I?"
"Cedars ICU."
Molly's eyes fluttered. "Oh," she murmured. "Not Gone With the Wind?"
A snort of laughter sounded from her left and she opened her eyes to see a tall man standing by the bed, arms crossed. She caught a beautiful purple tie and dark, intense eyes before looking back at the slender blonde in the bright pink sweater.
The blonde's lips were a little compressed. "I'm Deputy Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson of the LAPD, and this is Lieutenant Flynn. We have some questions about Stuart Mackie."
"Who?"
"Stuart Mackie. The man who abducted you and sawed off your toe and your finger!"
"Chief," the graying man said, "she's pretty doped up. Let me get her some water and sit with her for a while till she wakes up. Go get yourself some coffee."
When the Chief had left, the Lieutenant pulled up a chair. "Here," he said. He handed her a paper cup and a tissue from the nightstand. Molly dried her eyes and took a sip of the crisp, cool water. It felt like heaven sliding down her throat.
"Let's start over," he said slowly. "My name is Andy. You were brought to the hospital about an hour ago. You're in the ICU for observation, but the doctors are saying you're fine and they'll move you to a regular room soon."
"My mother?"
"We finally managed to reach her. She'll be arriving tomorrow morning."
"Thanks." Molly put the cup down and pushed herself up in the bed a little. "I'm sorry I'm so out of it, but I think I can answer some questions."
"Alright, but let me know if you need to take a break."
Molly nodded. The detective was pulling a notepad out of his pocket. The cheap, wirebound pad clashed with the rich navy blue fabric of his jacket. I wonder how much that suit cost? She knew she was doing it again: focusing on anything other than the lump of her left arm under the white blanket, or the larger lump of her left foot down at the end of the bed.
The detective's dark eyes rose to meet hers. "Do you remember being kidnapped?"
"Yeah. I was on my way to class. It must have been a Wednesday….Wait, what day is this?"
"Saturday. You were taken three days ago."
Molly felt her stomach unclench a bit. Three days was about what she remembered. "There was a guy in the faculty lot. He said his car needed a jumpstart. He looked vaguely familiar but I couldn't place him. I remember walking over to help him, and then I can't remember anything until…um…later."
"Can you remember his vehicle?"
She thought for a second. "Uh, it was a van. I think blue or gray?"
He nodded. "That's the vehicle we found parked in his garage. Did he talk to you much?"
"Yeah. After I woke up he talked for a long time, almost compulsively. He told me about all the unfair breaks, especially the way my failing him in that class kept him out of medical school. That's when I remembered who he was."
Her eyes shifted to the opening door. The Chief stepped in, balancing two coffee cups and a notepad in her hands while holding a pen in her mouth. The detective rose to help her and took one of the cups of coffee. "Thanks, Chief," he said. "She's remembering their conversations."
The Chief sat down and took the pen out of her mouth. "Good," she said with a predatory smile. "Let's see how many details you can remember. Did Mr. Mackie indicate where he's been living?"
"I got the impression he'd been in that house for some time."
"Why do you say that?" the Chief asked.
"He got mail there. Not just junk mail. I saw him opening some envelopes and they didn't have forwarding labels on them."
"Did he mention any other places he had lived or where he was hoping to go in the future?" she asked.
"Why would you ….. Oh my God."
"Professor? You okay?"
"Give her that water, Chief. She's white as a sheet."
Molly ignored the cup the woman was holding out to her and started pulling the tight blankets off so she could swing her legs out of the bed. The lieutenant's hands were instantly on her, pushing her back onto the bed. "Don't," he said sharply. "You're going to pull that IV out."
Molly pushed against him. "No! I have to get out of here. He'll find me! How could you have let him get away?"
"Hit that call button, Chief," he said over his shoulder. He looked back at Molly and tightened his grip on her shoulders. "Will you stop and listen to me for a second? You're safe here. Nobody is going to get you."
Molly's movements slowed. His hands felt like iron. Besides, she was suddenly aware of a deep throbbing in her foot. Running did not seem to be a viable option.
His hands loosened a bit. "Molly, there are two uniformed officers right outside that door, and they aren't going to leave you while you're in the hospital, okay?"
She nodded. He released her and stepped aside so the nurse could retape the IV. When she was done, she looked sternly at Molly. "Don't make me give you a sedative," she said with a wink.
The Chief and the Lieutenant were talking quietly in the corner. When the nurse left, the Lieutenant came back to the bed. "I need to go," he said, "but call me if you remember anything." He put a card down on the nightstand and left.
Molly looked at the Chief, who was digging through her gigantic black bag. Her hand finally emerged triumphantly with a card. She laid it down on top of the other card. "I've got to go, too," she said. "We'll get a full statement later when you're feeling better, but if you can think of anything that might help us locate Mr. Mackie, call right away."
"I don't understand how he got away. He was right there in the house with me."
"Well, apparently he had an escape route from the basement to the house next door. The FBI didn't spot it for several minutes, and by then he was gone."
Molly shook her head. "Don't get me wrong. I'm really grateful that they deciphered my messages. It was a total shot in the dark. But I wish they hadn't lost that guy."
"Oh no, Professor," the Chief said with a smile. "The FBI didn't decipher your messages. That was my team. Lieutenant Flynn, in fact."
"Provenza, it's me."
"Where are you?"
"Just leaving the hospital. The Chief wanted me to check on the van."
"Tao's processing it. He said he's found at least 5 different people's prints in there."
"Damn."
"What? He's beside himself with joy."
"I'm sure he is. But guess what you and I get to do next?"
"Oh no, no way. I haven't slept in 36 hours!"
"Too bad, old man. We've got to check on every one of those people."
Provenza muttered something under his breath that made Flynn chuckle. "You might want to ease up on the Scarlett O'Hara references for a while," he said. "She didn't react too well when Hughes cracked a joke."
"Our surgery victim was cracking jokes?"
"It was probably just the dope. She was joking one second, crying the next, and when she found out Mackie was on the loose she had a full-blown panic attack."
"Sounds like a lovely lady."
"Yeah, too bad she's too old for you."
Provenza snorted and hung up. Still grinning, Flynn got into his car and plugged the phone in. He grin turned into a grimace as he took a gulp of lukewarm coffee from the oversized mug sitting in the cup holder. He'd better refill that on the way back to the office. He didn't feel all that tired, though. They'd saved her. They'd got her out before the last surgery. She might be a complete flake, as Provenza had implied, but it didn't matter. She was a victim, and Flynn lived to save victims. That was one way he was different from the Chief. She lived to punish the bad guys. His motivations and hers usually led to the same result, but every once in a while they would pull in opposite directions. He knew she wouldn't hesitate to use Hughes as bait to lure Mackie back in. He wouldn't unless there was no other choice.